


Setbacks

by Aconissa



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic, Fluff and Smut, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 09:10:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aconissa/pseuds/Aconissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John return after a chase, ready to eat takeaway and fall asleep. But it's been a while - a very long while - and they're both a little desperate. Now that they've finished a long line of cases, maybe they'll finally be able to spend some alone time, without setbacks.<br/>Porn with a really tiny amount of plot if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Setbacks

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing smut, so I hope it's alright! Kudos and comments would be loved.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://aconissa.tumblr.com/)

John sighed heavily as he stepped into the flat. He was tired, hungry, and more than a little annoyed that he hadn’t even _kissed_ Sherlock in three days. The consulting detective had been hauling him around London for the last 48 hours trying to catch a librarian-turned-serial-killer, and now John just wanted to collapse. Instead, as was his way, he went into the kitchen and began to prepare tea.

As he pulled two mugs from the cupboard, he heard the aforementioned detective flop dramatically onto the sofa. Sherlock had been positively gleeful since he had discovered the killer’s whereabouts, and had loudly informed Lestrade and the rest of the Yard just how incompetent they were without him once the perpetrator was arrested. Now, however, John prepared himself for the binge eating and eventual crash that followed cases of this length. As the tea brewed he rifled through their considerable collection of take-out menus and finally ordered a large amount of Chinese food.

The tea ready, he walked into the living room and placed the steaming mugs on the coffee table, pushing Sherlock’s legs out of the way so he could sit down. The detective groaned in protest. John ignored him in favour of his drink. Taking several warm gulps, John leaned back and rested his head on the sofa, Sherlock sitting up before curling himself around the doctor and nuzzling his face in his neck.

‘Mmmmmm…’ John sighed contentedly, pleased at this sign of affection. They were still for several minutes, and John had just begun to drift off when he felt the detective’s lips on his neck. What started as soft, loving kisses turned into bites and licks, and he heard Sherlock’s moan as the younger man settled himself in John’s lap, slowly rubbing their crotches together.

John, suddenly more awake than before, kept his eyes closed as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist, who in turn brought his fingers through the doctor’s blond hair and pressed their lips together, hard.

John groaned into Sherlock’s mouth, their tongues moving against each other deliciously. The detective was moving quicker now, the bulge in his trousers evident each time it rubbed against John’s own.

Sliding his hand out of the doctor’s hair, Sherlock began to unbutton John’s cardigan swiftly, eager to get at the skin beneath. Following suit, John soon had the detective’s purple shirt undone, and hastily pushed it as far open as was possible whilst still wearing it. Sherlock did the same with the cardigan and shirt beneath, and soon both of them were sliding their hands across each other’s chests, their clothes hanging off their shoulders and their lips still locked.

When John tweaked his nipples, the detective gasped, finally breaking their kiss.

‘God – John…’ he moaned, as the doctor began to suck a large bruise into being on his neck, ‘I’ve missed this.’

John hummed in assent, glad to know that even the great Sherlock Holmes could miss physical intimacy. He brought his hand down to the detective’s crotch, kneading it slowly whilst continuing to pinch his nipples. Sherlock dropped his head, resting it against John’s shoulder. He began to thrust his hips slightly, trying to get as much friction as possible.

In seconds John had the younger man’s trousers undone and his hand inside his pants, stroking his hard cock. Sherlock whimpered slightly, before lifting his head and claiming his partner’s lips once again.

John gently lifted Sherlock into his arms, muffling his protest with his mouth and laying him horizontally along the sofa. In one swift motion he had the detective’s trousers and underpants pulled off, before straddling his hips and returning his hand to the hardness between them. With his other hand he searched in the folds of the sofa until it came into contact with the small tube of lubricant he had hidden there some weeks ago.

Sherlock huffed out a laugh when he opened his eyes and saw what John was holding. John smirked slyly at him.

‘You should always be prepared.’

The dark-haired man let out another surprised laugh. ‘You are ridiculous.’

John’s smile widened into a grin. Sherlock let out another chuckle before bringing his arms around his lover’s neck and assaulting his lips. It was all teeth and tongues, and for a few moments John was too distracted to do what he had intended to when he had grabbed the lube.

After spending several minutes snogging, he finally remembered and flipped open the cap. Covering two fingers in the slippery gel, he placed the tube on the coffee table before bringing his fingers to Sherlock’s entrance. While his left hand continued to languorously stroke the detective’s length, John slowly began to slip one finger into the tight heat. He felt the taller man shudder slightly beneath him, overcome by the multitude of sensations – John’s tongue in his mouth, his hand on his cock and his finger moving steadily in and out of his arse.

When he felt a second digit enter him, Sherlock tightened his arms around the doctor’s neck and swore loudly.

John hummed in appreciation, rewarding Sherlock with a trail of light kisses along his collarbone. The younger man moaned, slipping his hands under John’s shirt and letting them travel up and down his back.

The doctor began pushing his fingers faster inside Sherlock, scissoring them whilst searching for his prostate. Usually the detective needed very little preparation, but it had been a long time since they last did this – _far too long_ , thought John – so he took his time, careful not to hurt him.

When the shorter man’s fingers finally brushed against that bundle of nerves, Sherlock arched his back, pressing further down on John’s fingers as well as pushing into the hand wrapped around his cock. His moan was muffled by the John’s mouth, which was pressed hard against his, their tongues moving against each other.

Sherlock began moving faster against John, regaining some of the control he had lost. Soon, he was writhing against the blond, the doctor staying relatively still as the younger man pleasured himself using the former’s fingers and hand.

The sight of the dark-haired man being so shameless and wanton was making John desperate. His own cock had gone untouched for some time, and he planned to remedy that.

“Sherlock…” he rasped, unable to keep his voice steady, “Sherlock, are you ready?”

John’s voice seemed to bring the detective out of the haze. He opened his eyes, remembering that the other man was still lying over him. For a few moments he breathed, trying to gain enough air to speak. Quietly, he whispered a “yes”, tipping his head back and lifting his legs to the sides. One he draped over the back of the sofa, letting the other fall to the side until he could feel the cool wooden floorboards against his heel.

Gently, John pulled his fingers from Sherlock’s body, relishing the breathy sigh he received in response. Letting go of the younger man’s cock, the shorter man pulled his cardigan and shirt from his shoulder, before unbuttoning his jeans and stepping out of them.

The doctor shifted until he was kneeling on the cushions again, bracing his right foot on the floor and slipping his left arm under the detective’s right knee, lifting it up and holding it there. With his other hand he reached down and grasped his own hardness, whimpering at the first touch against the sensitive skin. He looked up at Sherlock’s face, gasping when he saw the younger man’s eyes staring intently at him. The pupils were blown wide, the beautiful blue – or green or grey, he never quite knew which – that he so loved lingering at the very edges. Keeping their eyes locked, John moved forward, guiding his cock to the other man’s loosened entrance.

He began to push past the first ring of muscle. It was tight – it had really been _far_ too long – and it took several seconds before the head of his cock finally popped in. Both men moaned at the feeling; John’s sounding like a sigh of relief, whereas Sherlock’s was more akin to a whimper.

It was in the quiet that followed this movement that they heard it.

A doorbell.

 _Their_ doorbell.

John groaned, remembering the takeaway that he had ordered. Well, _fuck_.

“Just leave it,” Sherlock said, moving his hands through the doctor’s blond hair and leaning up to whisper into his ear. “Let it go.”

John huffed. He could still feel the detective wrapped around his cock, and a sudden squeeze of the muscles surrounding his hardness showed him that Sherlock was aware of it too. It took all his self-control to stop from pushing forward.

“I- Sherlock, I can’t. It’s our food, I have to pay.”

“We can order more later. Come on, John. Forget about it.” The taller man’s voice had become gravelly and soft, almost pleading. John knew this voice – it reminded him of blowjobs in dark alleyways, of frantic sex in the men’s room at Scotland Yard. It was the voice Sherlock used whenever he wanted John to do something against his better judgement.

But _god_ , it was so unbelievably tempting.

John felt his chest heave with a frustrated sob as he slowly pulled out of Sherlock. The detective whimpered, feeling empty and annoyed. He sent his partner a glare, angrily watching him put on Sherlock’s own blue dressing gown before picking up his wallet, opening the door and rushing downstairs.

When John got to the door, he took a moment to make sure that the folds of the too-long robe covered his erection – he was somewhat surprised that he was still hard, though only for a moment. It _really_ had been far too long.

Cursing himself for ever ordering the food in the first place, the doctor threw the door open, thrust far too much money into the delivery boy’s hands, grabbed the bags of food and rushed back upstairs, the door slamming shut behind him.

When he entered 221b, he was dismayed to see that Sherlock wasn’t on the sofa anymore. In fact, he was nowhere in sight. John, disappointed but resigned to the fact that he seemed to have been cock-blocked by sodding _takeaway_ , started unpacking the plastic bag and opening the containers.

He was ruminating on this development when he felt arms wind around his waist, effectively stopping what he was doing.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Sherlock – a very naked, very hard Sherlock – rumbled in his ear, nipping the lobe before spinning John round to face him. “We’re not done yet.”

John grinned as the taller man’s lips crashed against his, before kissing him back fiercely and pushing him towards the bedroom. He thanked whatever deity there was that they had chosen Sherlock’s room to share when they had progressed from friends to lovers. It would be hell to navigate stairs with a lanky, pale, and _gorgeous_ consulting detective wrapped around him.

The blond pushed the other man onto the bed, scrabbling over him whilst pulling his robe off. He was mercifully hard again, and after another setback following several-cases worth of setbacks, he wasn’t going to prolong this. He settled between the taller man’s open legs, which immediately wrapped themselves around his torso. Without even checking if he was still loose, John pushed into Sherlock roughly, relishing the younger man’s yell.

When he bottomed out both men moaned, glad to have _finally_ reached this stage. The doctor immediately began to thrust in and out of his lover at a punishing pace, watching the ecstatic expression on the brunette’s face. Sherlock’s eyes were closed tight, his mouth open with pants and sweat matting his dark curls together.

Seeing his opportunity, John brought his right hand to the detective’s face, slipping two fingers between into his mouth. He moaned loudly as he watched lips wrap themselves around the digits, Sherlock’s eyes flying open as his tongue writhed around the intrusion.

For several minutes the room was filled with the sound of their skin slapping against each other, John panting with exertion while Sherlock’s moans were muffled by the fingers he was so expertly sucking. The older man could think of nothing but the feeling of velvet heat wrapped around him. He plunged into the detective deep and hard, pace increasing as he felt his orgasm build.

Sensing his release, John began to thrust with short, fast strokes, making sure to hit the younger man’s prostrate each time. Leaning down, he whispered into the brunette’s ear. “God, I- love, I’m almost there. Touch yourself.”

Sherlock moaned at the words, instantly bringing his right hand between their bodies and pumping at his leaking cock. It didn’t take long for him to tense up, moaning loudly around his partner’s fingers and spilling across their stomachs. John gasped at the feeling of the warm fluid against his skin, following immediately afterward and coming with a shout of the detective’s name.

When the aftershocks had ceased, he gingerly pulled out of the man beneath him, wincing with sensitivity. Picking up the robe from the floor, he gently mopped up their stomachs, smiling at the disorientated expression on Sherlock’s face. Dealing with the fluid leaking out of his pink entrance, the doctor tossed the dressing gown off the bed and pulled the sheets around them, sighing as the detective wrapped his lanky body around him. He buried his face into the dark curls of his lover’s head, relishing the endorphin high as he felt the younger man nuzzle further into his shoulder.

Wrapping his arms around the detective, John mumbled a “love you” into the damp hair. He smiled tiredly when he heard a muffled “you too” in response. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift off to sleep, the takeaway food entirely forgotten.


End file.
